


A Long Time Coming

by thestanceyg



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Homecoming, M/M, Soldier!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestanceyg/pseuds/thestanceyg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's been acting strangely, and Lestrade isn't sure why.  One day he finds a shirtless soldier in Sherlock's flat and things start to make a lot more sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Anniversary

Sherlock was distracted.  While he was examining the body, he didn’t seem to actually be looking as closely as he normally did.  He wasn’t sniffing anything or drawing preposterous conclusions based on jewelry.   **  
**

 

Greg was concerned. **  
**

 

Mycroft had sent him a text asking him to take Sherlock out to a case, any case.  He had implied that it might be a danger night.  Greg had huffed a great sigh, and the gone straight to the detective’s flat to cajole him out to a crime scene, even though he knew that Sherlock would rate it a 3 at best. **  
**

 

It had been shockingly easy to convince him. Sherlock had simply gotten up, grabbed his coat, and followed the DI to the waiting car.  He didn’t even insist on taking his own cab. So, no fight, no cab, and seemingly no interest in the body made for one concerned friend. **  
**

 

“Where’s the trophy?” **  
**

 

“What?” Greg asked, pulled out of his internal concern by Sherlock’s demanding voice. **  
**

 

“The trophy.  Her trophy.  It should be on the mantle, but it’s not there.” **  
**

 

“What’s he going on about? A trophy?  There’s no trophy,” Anderson cut in. **  
**

 

“Shut up, Anderson, when you talk, you waste everyone’s time.”  Sherlock turned to Sally, “Perhaps you’re not as dumb today?  There should be a trophy. Look at the pictures.  Look at the mantle.  That trophy is all she had left of the life she still wished she had.  That’s your murder weapon.  This was a crime of passion, so find the trophy and get the prints off it, no, don’t look at me like that, the murderer was too incompetent to wipe it, and there’s your conviction evidence.  Though I suppose she might confess without it, but I’m sure you prefer all the evidence you can get your hands on.” **  
**

 

“What do you mean ‘her’?”   **  
**

 

“Oh do keep up, Sally.  The murderer is a woman.  It’s the young girl she had been training for the pageant circuit that came in first runner-up instead of winning.  They got into an argument about whose fault it was she didn’t win, things got messy, and then pow! Trophy to the head.  It’s a shame, really.  The pageant was rigged.  She should have won it.  Now she’ll never be in a pageant again.” **  
**

 

“Now hold on a second here,” **  
**

 

“Do you need me to further spell things out for you, Lestrade?” **  
**

 

“No, no, I think we’ve got it covered.”  Greg paused for a moment, then yelled over his shoulder, “That is it  should be covered if people are doing their jobs and looking for the bloody trophy!” **  
**

 

“In that case,” **  
**

 

“Actually, Sherlock, could you stay a moment?  I need to talk to you.” **  
**

 

Sherlock sighed. **  
**

 

“Just, look, just let me make sure everyone’s at least attempting to do their job and then we can talk.  I promise it will take very little time.” **  
**

 

Sherlock inclined his head as though to say, “Well then, get on with it,” and Lestrade went straight to walking the crime scene and encouraging everyone to get this done already.  Then he came back to Sherlock. **  
**

 

“Look, I didn’t ask you to come out here because I needed you to.” **  
**

 

“Oh?  You think Donovan and Anderson were going to figure that out on their own?” **  
**

 

“They would have found the trophy eventually.  We  were looking for the murder weapon still.” **  
**

 

“I know you called me because Mycroft told you to.” **  
**

 

“Then why didn’t you fight me when I asked you to come out?  You hate being manipulated by Mycroft.” **  
**

 

“Lesser of two evils.  If I hadn’t come out, Mycroft would have come over.” **  
**

 

“So it is a danger night?” **  
**

 

“Not like you’re thinking.” **  
**

 

“So not drugs?” **  
**

 

“Lestrade, I haven’t done drugs in at least three years.  No.  Not that type of danger.  And also, not something I am in need of help with.  Your concern is nice, I suppose, but unneeded.  Now then, I will be on my way.”  Sherlock turned and started to leave. **  
**

 

“Wait!”  Sherlock turned back.  “Do you,” Greg paused and ran his hand over the back of his head, “do you want me to come over tonight after I’m done here?” **  
**

 

“Unnecessary.” **  
**

 

“But unwanted?”

****  
Instead of answering, Sherlock turned again and left.  



	2. Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade would like some help, but Clearly something is keeping Sherlock at home.

Two weeks later Lestrade was trying to get Sherlock to come out for a case. **  
**

 

Sherlock, we could really use some help. **  
**

 

Busy.-SH **  
**

 

What could you be busy with that is more important than a triple homicide? **  
**

 

Double homicide, suicide-SH **  
**

 

What? **  
**

 

You don’t need me.  Your murderer is one of the victims. He staged it to look like he was a victim, but he wasn’t. Now you don’t need me, so kindly piss off-SH **  
**

 

You haven’t been out for any of the cases this week.  Do I need to do a drugs bust? **  
**

 

Just because I don’t even need to be present to solve your cases does not mean I am currently taking drugs.  What would that mean for your staff if I could solve these cases without even being on site while high?-SH **  
**

 

Fine.  Fine.  

****  
Lestrade didn’t want to admit it, but, yes, maybe Sherlock could solve a crime from miles away while high that his team couldn’t even begin to sort out.  He wondered if he should have stopped by the flat two weeks ago on that danger night.  Sherlock had promised he wasn’t taking drugs anymore, but maybe Greg should have checked. He was about to kick himself for being such a shit friend when he remembered Mycroft had the flat bugged.  If Sherlock was using again, Mycroft would know.  Greg turned to yell at Anderson to figure out which one was the suicide.  He felt a little bit better.


	3. The End of Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looks like there isn't anything to keep Sherlock in the flat any more.

The following week Greg called Sherlock for an intriguing robbery.  No bodies, but also no clues as to how the articles had been stolen. **  
**

 

“Sherlock, we need you on this one. It’s got to rate at least a 5.” **  
**

 

“I can’t right now.” **  
**

 

“Can’t right now?  But you could eventually?” **  
**

 

“Yes, Lestrade, that is what I meant.  I am currently busy, but I can help out later. Probably in a few hours.” **  
**

 

“Are you running an experiment again?  Did Molly give you those fingers you’d been wanting?” **  
**

 

“No, no experiment.  Though, do you think she has the fingers?  I should  drop by and check.  Send me pictures of the scene.  I’ll be there when I can get there.” **  
**

 

“Sherlock-” Greg started, but was cut off by the dial tone.  Just what was that man doing?  Greg hoped he could pull some answers out once Sherlock showed up, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath.  Instead, he did as asked ,and sent pictures along with a few pertinent details and waited. **  
**

 

Three hours later, a worse for the wear looking Sherlock appeared at NSY. There were bags under his eyes, and they were lightly rimmed in red.  He clearly hadn’t slept in several days.  Lestrade looked over him.  His clothes were wrinkled, though clean, and his hair was mussed.  **  
**

 

“Jesus, Sherlock, what have you been doing? Have you slept in the last few days?” **  
**

 

“No time for sleep, and no time for your questions. Did any of the employees have pet ferrets?” **  
**

 

“I...I don’t know.  We didn’t exactly ask about their families.” **  
**

 

“Well get someone on it!  I’ll need to take a closer look, but there appear to be tiny scratch marks all around, and I am guessing that your thief is a highly trained ferret.  While someone does their job, I’ll need to go over alibis.”

****  
Lestrade didn’t have a chance to question Sherlock any further.  They spent the next several hours going over statements and photos.  Once the perpetrator had been identified, Sherlock swept out before the DI could even thank him for his help. **  
**


	4. Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock get *that* call while on a case.

A year later, Sherlock was inspecting an unusual scene.  There were limbs scattered all over, but no blood.  Clearly someone had murdered, from the looks of it, seven people, at another location and dumped the limbs here  But not dumped, really.  They had been arranged in some sort of pattern.  NSY was at a complete loss, as they didn’t even have seven missing people reports from the last month. **  
**

“There were only four victims.” **  
**

“Oh really, freak?  You can count, can’t you?” **  
**

“I can, Anderson, but I can also tell a real human limb from an, admittedly clever, prosthetic.” **  
**

Anderson gaped at Sherlock.  “There’s no way that any of these are not human.” **  
**

Sherlock turned to Lestrade, “No wonder you have to call me so often.  Your forensics can’t even tell real human flesh from simulation flesh.  Honestly, I thought that Donovan would have been able to tell, given her private collection of life-like toys.” **  
**

“Now just what are you getting at?” Lestrade asked. **  
**

“Yes, Sally, care to explain to the DI why you might know high quality synthetic skin?” Sherlock smirked. **  
**

Greg caught on and was about to intervene when a phone rang.  Everyone immediately went to their pockets, but it was Sherlock who answered. **  
**

“This better be important. You know I prefer to text.” **  
**

Whatever the response was, Sherlock suddenly stilled. **  
**

“Tell me exactly what happened.” **  
**

Slowly the color drained from Sherlock’s face. **  
**

“How long?” **  
**

Anger crossed his features. **  
**

“No, how long until he is here, Mycroft?” **  
**

Now instead of ghostly white, his face was turning red. **  
**

“That’s not good enough!  You know that’s damn well not good enough!” **  
**

His lips became a thin line. **  
**

“I see.  The moment you know, I need to know.” **  
**

A pause. **  
**

“Obviously.” **  
**

And then a short pause. **  
**

“Thank you, Mycroft.”   **  
**

It was clearly difficult to say that last part. **  
**

As Sherlock hung up, everyone tried to pretend they hadn’t been listening.  Sherlock turned dispassionate eyes back to the crime scene. For as puffed up and triumphant he had been before the phone call, he was now deflated and defeated. **  
**

Sherlock waved his hand over the scene.  “Look into the staff at Madam Lucricia’s.  You’ll find your murderer there.”  He turned and started toward the street. **  
**

“Sherlock!  Wait!”  Lestrade ran after him, catching up as he made his way out of the building and into the daylight.  “Are you all right?  That phone call didn’t sound like good news.” **  
**

“It wasn’t, but there is nothing I can do for now.  I don’t need your pity, nor your help, but the idiots that work for you could use both.  Honestly, who can’t tell that several of the limbs aren’t even real?  Don’t worry about me, Lestrade.  Worry about that team you have in there.  They could completely botch this and then you won’t catch a serial killer.” **  
**

Sherlock hailed a cab and folded himself in while Greg watched the car pull away. **  
**

_Do I need to check on him tonight? **  
**_

_Do, please.  He will be miserable company, but he will need someone with him tonight.-MH **  
**_

_Are you going to tell me what’s going on? **  
**_

_Unfortunately it is classified.  Send me word when you are heading over and I’ll make sure there is a car and carry out waiting for you.-MH **  
**_

Greg put his phone away and went back into the building.  It was going to be a long night. **  
**


	5. Greg Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg is finally able to check on Sherlock after the call.

It was nearing midnight when Greg was finally able to leave NSY and head over to check on Sherlock. He worried about Mrs. Hudson being asleep, so he didn’t bother knocking.  Luckily, the doors were unlocked, and he was able to head straight up. He did knock softly on the door to the flat, but that was just to alert Sherlock that he was there.  As he pushed open the door, Sherlock called out to him. **  
**

 

“I heard you on the stairs. The knocking was unnecessary.  You got here earlier than I expected. Did you call in additional forensics?” **  
**

 

Greg took the bag of Italian carry-out over to the kitchen table which was shockingly clear of experiments. **  
**

 

“Yes.  Anderson refused to even think that you might be right about the limbs simply because you said it and it made him look like an idiot.” **  
**

 

“He is an idiot.” **  
**

 

“He sure was tonight.” **  
**

 

Greg rummaged around until he found some forks and plates, and started preparing food for them both. **  
**

 

“I’m not hungry.” **  
**

 

“You need to eat.” **  
**

 

“Slows down my mind.” **  
**

 

“The case is over.” **  
**

 

“Your case is not my only case.” **  
**

 

“Is this about the phone call?” **  
**

 

“Took you long enough to get to that.” **  
**

 

“Sherlock, I’m not going to pester you until you tell me, though I kind of want to.  I will, however, pester you into eating.” **  
**

 

“Mycroft will be disappointed that you didn’t pressure me to tell you everything.” **  
**

 

“Yeah, well, I can thank him for his food and tell him to piss off.  Your business is your business, and being a good friend means letting you tell or not tell me whatever you want.  I only allow his interference because I think it helps me be a friend to you when I’m not sure what you need.” **  
**

 

“And you think Mycroft knows what I need?” **  
**

 

“Of course not.  But he does have this place bugged to high heaven, so sometimes he can give me hints.  Cryptic, cryptic hints.” **  
**

 

Sherlock gave a small smile at this. **  
**

 

Greg waited.  It was now up to Sherlock.  **  
**

 

Sherlock moved the food around his plate with his fork.  Greg ate in silence.  **  
**

 

It was nearly twenty minutes before Sherlock spoke. “I don’t want to seem….,” he struggled for a word. “...inconsiderate,” he finally decided on. **  
**

 

“C’mon now.  When have you ever cared if you were being considerate or not?” **  
**

 

Sherlock tilted his head in acknowledgement.  “I don’t have very many friends at all, Lestrade, but I do believe you are one.  And I don’t want to be..unfriendly? impolite? but I really don’t think I can talk about this.  I do appreciate that you came over, even if Mycroft sent you.” **  
**

 

“I would have come anyway.  Mycroft was just free food and a ride.” **  
**

 

They went back to sitting in silence.  Sherlock eventually ate about half his plate. Around 1:30, Greg left.  He wasn’t sure Sherlock noticed at all. **  
**


	6. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more bad news leaves Sherlock frantic to occupy his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today because sometimes Sunday feels like it's never going to end.

Two days later, Lestrade was surprised to hear from Sherlock. **  
******

_Please tell me you have a case for me.-SH **  
**_

_Nothing interesting right now.  Not even to me. **  
**_

_I NEED a case, Lestrade.-SH **  
**_

_I suppose you could come in and look at a cold case. **  
**_

_Get out all the cold cases you have.  I need hours worth of work.-SH **  
**_

_Are you OK? **  
**_

_I will be once I start working.-SH **  
**_

 

Fifteen minutes later a very agitated Sherlock stormed into Lestrade’s office. **  
**

 

“Where are they?” he demanded, fire in his eyes. **  
**

 

“Hello to you too, Sherlock.  This way.” **  
**

 

He led Sherlock to an empty office with an empty table, save for one box. **  
**

 

“This is all I could get on short notice, but it should keep you busy.” **  
**

 

Sherlock didn’t respond, but instead threw himself into an empty chair and yanked the box toward himself. **  
**

 

“Right.  Well, I’ll be in my office then.” **  
**

 

Three hours later Sherlock dumped the box onto Lestrade’s desk. **  
**

 

“Do you have any more?” **  
**

 

“Err, no.  Are you saying you’ve solved all of these?  There must have been fifteen cases in that box.” **  
**

 

“Dull.  All so dull.  I would have solved them all sooner, but my mind is preoccupied.” **  
**

 

Greg stood up and shut his door, taking his time with the action. **  
**

 

“Listen, mate, I’m thankful for the help, believe me, I am, but I think it’s time to tell me what’s going on.  At least part of it. Tell me something.” **  
**

 

“Don’t you have work to do?” **  
**

 

“Not really.  Told you it was a slow day.” **  
**

 

Sherlock didn’t respond. **  
**

 

“Look, I know I told you it’s up to you to tell or not tell me what’s bothering you, but I think we’re at the point where you need to tell, but are afraid to.  Now it’s my job to push until you do.” **  
**

 

“I could just leave.” **  
**

 

“Yes, you could, but you would have already if you were going to.” **  
**

 

Sherlock leaned back in his chair. **  
**

 

“You know, I do understand people a bit more than you give me credit for.  I might not be a genius like you, but I am good at my job.” **  
**

 

Sherlock snorted. **  
**

 

“No.  You don’t get to make fun of my ability to do my job.  Anderson?  Sure.  He’s bloody terrible at his job.  Don’t tell him I said that, though.  It just makes him worse.” **  
**

 

Sherlock gave a small smile. **  
**

 

“So now you’re going to tell me something-anything about what is going on.  Once you’ve done that, you’re free to go.  Until then, though, I’m holding you hostage.” **  
**

 

“You think you can hold me here?” **  
**

 

“Nah.  I just think you’re going to stay because I said so.” **  
**

 

“When has that ever worked for you?” **  
**

 

“Never.  But we were always at a crime scene and it was work.  This is different.  This is personal.” **  
**

 

Sherlock sighed.  “Fine.  I’ll tell you something, but once I have, I am leaving and I will not be answering any questions.” **  
**

 

“Fine.  Fair.  Let’s hear it then.” **  
**

 

“Someone I have known for a long time has been hurt, and of course that’s not simple enough, I was informed today that this person had to go and get a damned infection, and currently, there is nothing I can do about it.” ****

 

“Nothing?  I’m sure a mind as great as yours could think of something.  I know you ‘prefer to text,’ but have you written a letter?  Might not help anything physical, but could help this person keep their spirits up.” **  
**

 

“I had considered that.” **  
**

 

“Okay then.” **  
**

 

“Indeed.” **  
**

 

Sherlock looked like he might say something more, when Anderson barged into the office. **  
**

 

“Sir, we’ve gotten the results back on the tox screen from the Mullins case.” **  
**

 

“You do realize my door was shut and you didn’t knock.” **  
**

 

Anderson looked around the office and then sneered, “It’s just the freak.  We don’t even have a case for him right now.” **  
**

 

“Which is why I was leaving.  Text me if something worthwhile comes up,” Sherlock answered, gracefully pulling himself out of the chair and heading for the door.  Just as he started to sweep past Anderson he added, “Does Sally know you’ve got another woman on the side, or are you two off again?” **  
**

 

Anderson turned red, and tried to think of a retort, but whatever he had started to think of was immediately shattered by Donovan’s hand colliding with his face. **  
**

 

Greg propped his elbows on his desk and put his head in his hands.  He had gotten so close to getting Sherlock to open up, and now he had a domestic to deal with instead.  Sometimes he could just strangle Anderson. **  
**


	7. Back in England

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets a call letting him know John is finally back in England.

Eight days later Sherlock was bent over the body of a dead man, and Anderson was complaining. **  
**

 

“Why did you have to call  him in? It’s clearly a suicide.  Why are we wasting everyone’s time?” **  
**

 

Secretly, Greg did think it was a simple case, but he had called Sherlock out in an attempt to keep him busy. **  
**

 

“Not a suicide.” **  
**

 

“What do you mean, ‘not a suicide’?  Of course it is.  You do see the gun and the powder stains on the fingers?” **  
**

 

“I do.  I am surprised you did.  However, the gunshot took place post mortem.  The killer made it look like suicide, hoping an idiot like you would be working the case so he would get away with it.” **  
**

 

“Do we really have to listen to this nonsense?” **  
**

 

“Yes,” Lestrade said emphatically as the phone rang. **  
**

 

Sherlock answered his phone. **  
**

 

“How long?” **  
**

 

After listening for a moment he hung up. **  
**

 

“I have to go.  Won’t be available for a while.  Not sure how long.” **  
**

 

“What about the cause of death, Sherlock?” the DI called after him. **  
**

 

“Poison,” Sherlock called over his shoulder as he got into a sleek black car that had just pulled up.  “Check his lips.  Obvious, really.”  He shut the door and the car sped away. **  
**

 

“You’re just going to let him go like that?” **  
**

 

“I am.  Now, go have a look at that mouth and try to figure out what he was talking about.” **  
**

 

“You don’t really think it was murder, do you?” **  
**

 

Greg shrugged.  “When was the last time he was wrong?” **  
**


	8. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, Sherlock will NOT be coming to your crime scene.

_Got a case.  I’ll send a car. **  
**_

_Don’t bother.  I’m not coming.-SH **  
**_

_We could really use you.  We’re stumped. **  
**_

_That’s too bad.  I told you I would be unavailable for a while.-SH **  
**_

_It’s been nearly a week. **  
**_

_You do understand that “a while” is not a set amount of time?-SH **  
**_

_Well, yes, but I thought you’d be back by now. **  
**_

_Clearly you thought wrong-SH **  
**_

_Can I come by with the file? **  
**_

_Won’t matter.  I’m not at the flat.-SH **  
**_

_I could just leave it for you. **  
**_

_You really must be desperate.-SH **  
**_

_I am. **  
**_

_Fine  Leave it.  There’s no guarantee as to when I will get to it.-SH **  
**_

_Well, in the very unlikely event I solve it without you, I’ll be sure to let you know. **  
**_

_Do.-SH_


	9. An Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to see John!

Another week had gone by and Greg was getting antsy.  Sherlock hadn’t gotten back to him about the strange string of suicides, and they were getting nowhere.  He knew Sherlock had said he wasn’t at the flat, but maybe things had changed.  He decided to swing by.  Maybe, if nothing else, Sherlock had started to write up some notes on the case and he could snag them. **  
**

 

Greg knocked on the door and bid a fond hello to Mrs. Hudson.  She mentioned that Sherlock was, indeed, home, but that he might be sleeping.  Greg shrugged and went up the stairs. He knocked loudly on the door to the flat, which momentarily was flung open by an unhappy consulting detective. **  
**

 

“What do you think you are doing?” Sherlock hissed. **  
**

 

“Checking up on you, mate.” **  
**

 

“I don’t need checking up on.  Didn’t Mrs. Hudson tell you I was sleeping?” **  
**

 

“She did, but clearly you aren’t.” **  
**

 

Sherlock practically growled in response.  He stalked over to the desk and grabbed Lestrade’s file.  Greg took the opportunity to step fully into the flat and shut the door. **  
**

 

“Here,” Sherlock thrust the file into Lestrade’s hands. Greg took it and sat down.  Sherlock was not amused.  “What do you think you’re doing?” **  
**

 

“Well, seeing as you’re not asleep, I thought you could walk me through your deductions.  It’ll save me a phone call or another trip when I can’t see the connection myself.” **  
**

 

“I don’t have time for this!” Sherlock hoarsely whispered. **  
**

 

“Looks like you have plenty of time.  You don’t seem to be doing much of anything at all.”  Greg peered around the flat, trying to identify the cause of Sherlock’s irritation. **  
**

 

“While it may appear to you that I have nothing but time, that couldn’t be further from the truth.” **  
**

 

Sherlock stood up to show Lestrade to the door, when a new voice pierced the room. **  
**

 

“Sher?” a groggy voice called out. **  
**

 

“Now look what you’ve done!” Sherlock practically cried.  “Coming!” He called out louder, in a more gentle tone. **  
**

 

“No matter,” the voice slurred a bit.  “I should come to you.” **  
**

 

“No, really.  It’s okay.  I’ll be there in a moment to help you.”  He turned back to Lestrade and spat out, “You should leave now.” **  
**

 

Greg threw up his hands in surrender and rose from his chair.  As he started toward the door, a shirtless man came out of Sherlock’s bedroom, limping.  Greg stopped. **  
**

 

“We have company?” the man asked. **  
**

 

“No,” said Sherlock.  “He was just leaving.” **  
**

 

“Not on account of me, I hope,” the man replied. **  
**

 

Greg looked over the man.  He had a large bandage over his shoulder.  Greg might not be the master of deduction that Sherlock was, but it was plain to see that, on top of having just woken up, the man was under the influence of some heavy duty pain killers.  Greg was torn.  Clearly he had woken this man up and should leave immediately so Sherlock could get him back to bed, but curiosity was also burning in his brain to know who this man was.  Eventually, his sense of shame won. **  
**

 

“Err, well, yes.  I was just heading out.  Thank you, Sherlock, for this,” he said, waving the file. **  
**

 

“You must be DI Lestrade,” the man said, much more clearly now as he came fully awake. **  
**

 

“Yes.  I am.” **  
**

 

“I’ve heard so much about you, but never your first name.  What is it?” **  
**

 

“Oh, umm, Greg.” **  
**

 

“Greg.  Not too hard to remember.  How could you not keep that in your giant head long enough to give me that detail?” the man gently scolded Sherlock. **  
**

 

“I didn’t think it was important.” **  
**

 

“Not important!” the man scoffed.  “He’s only the glue that held you together while I was gone!” **  
**

 

“I’d hardly say…” **  
**

 

“Don’t you lie to me Sherlock Holmes!  I know how to read between the lines of your letters.”  The man turned back to Greg, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.  I probably won’t fully remember this, though, seeing as the pain killers I’m on are still a fairly high dosage.  In fact, I might be hallucinating you right now.”   **  
**

 

“No, no.  I am really here, though I should get going.  Murderers to catch and all.” **  
**

 

“Well, I would appreciate it if you would call this git out next time.  He’s been monstrous bored staying in with the likes of me all day.” **  
**

 

“John, I hardly think that you are well enough to be left alone yet.” **  
**

 

“Sherlock, one of us is a doctor, and it isn’t you.  I’ll be fine for several hours while you go off and use that enormous brain of yours for something productive.” **  
**

 

“Well, I can call, but I can’t force him to come out.” **  
**

 

“You call-I’ll get him out of the flat.  Deal?” **  
**

 

“Deal.  Pleasure meeting you.” **  
**

 

“You as well, though I do think I will forget this and will have to meet you all over again.” John turned to Sherlock. “The floor seems to be moving like the waves of the ocean.  Think you could help me back to bed?” **  
**

 

Greg slinked out, filing away all he had seen to deal with after work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The floor seems to be moving like the waves of the ocean" is something I once said to my parents as I was recovering from surgery and on some heavy pain killers. They thought it was hilarious and never let me forget it, so I thought I might as well get some use out of it.


	10. Wrong Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Anderson doesn't have a clue.

John was, indeed, able to get Sherlock out.  Three days later Greg had called Sherlock, seeking his assistance, and he did indeed show up, though it took much longer than it should have for him to arrive. **  
**

 

“I wasn’t sure John would remember our conversation, but it looks like he was true to his word.”  Sherlock ignored Lestrade, but unfortunately, Anderson had also heard. **  
**

 

“Who’s John?  Can’t be your friend.  No one in their right mind would be friends with you.” **  
**

 

Sherlock tensed a bit, but calmly replied, “John is my doctor.”  He knew Anderson would jump to the wrong conclusion, but that was fine for now. **  
**

 

“Oh?  Is he your psychiatrist?  Someone finally trying to figure out what’s wrong with you.”  It wasn’t a question. **  
**

 

“Why would anyone need to do that?” Sherlock retorted, “You’ve already diagnosed me and we all know how smart you are.  I mean, that’s why I’m here, right?  So you can show me how smart you are?  Not because you are too simple minded to find even the most basic pieces of evidence.”  This, also, was not a question. **  
**

 

Anderson sneered, but had no easy reply.  Instead he complained to Lestrade.  “Why do you always call the freak in?  He obviously isn’t fit to be in public.  I’m surprised his doctor hasn’t locked him up.” **  
**

 

“I call him because he sees things the rest of us don’t.  If you could see things like he does, then I wouldn’t need to call him.  But, you can’t, so I do.”  As an afterthought he added, “And his doctor is the one that encouraged me to call Sherlock.” **  
**

 

“We’re a police force, not part of his therapy.” **  
**

 

“If you’re done speculating on my mental health, I have figured out who your killer is and, I assume you’d like to get on with your job that you’re oh, so good at?” **  
**

 

Sherlock snapped off his blue rubber gloves.  “I can’t stand listening to him prattle on any more. I’ll text you the information.”  And with that he swept out of the room, phone already in hand. **  
**

 

Lestrade’s phone buzzed a moment later. **  
**

 

“RIght,” Lestrade commanded, “we’re looking for a male, 40’s, dark hair, related to the victim…”


	11. Crime Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sally has a conversation with John.

It was a while before Lestrade called on Sherlock again.  This time he arrived at the scene with John in tow. **  
**

 

“No civilians,” Sally said, using her arm to block John’s entrance. **  
**

 

“He’s civilian,” John responded, using his cane like an extension of his arm, waving it at Sherlock’s back. **  
**

 

“No, he’s a freak and you’d do well to stay away from him.” **  
**

 

“Pardon?” John said, with a hint of steel in his voice. **  
**

 

“You know why he’s here, right?  He gets off on this stuff.  It’s not normal.” **  
**

 

John looked toward the door Sherlock had disappeared into. “I thought he was here to help.” **  
**

 

“If you ask me, it’s just as likely that he put the body there as not.  How else could he know so much about the victims?” **  
**

 

“I believe he calls it deduction, and he figures it out by observing.” **  
**

 

“What are you?  His fan club?  Here’s some solid advice for you-Sherlock Holmes does not have friends, so don’t fancy yourself one.” **  
**

 

Sally’s radio crackled to life. **  
**

 

“Donovan!” **  
**

 

“Sir?” **  
**

 

“Do you have John Watson with you?” **  
**

 

She looked over at John, who nodded at her unasked question. **  
**

 

“Yes, sir, I do.” **  
**

 

“Well stop holding him up and send him in already.” **  
**

 

“Sir, he’s not cleared.” **  
**

 

“I didn’t ask your opinion, Donovan, I gave an order.” **  
**

 

“Yes, sir.”  She dropped the radio back onto her belt loop and gave John a disgusted once over.  “Don’t forget what I said,” she spat out as she stepped out of his way so he could enter the crime scene. **  
**

 

“I don’t think I will,” John replied. **  
**

 

Before he could enter the scene, though, Sherlock was already running out! **  
**

 

“A lead, John!” he called as he ran down the street.   **  
**

 

“Right,” said John to no one in particular, following him slowly, still limping with the cane. **  
**

 

When John got to the corner, Sherlock was already out of sight.  John sighed and pulled out his phone. **  
**

 

_You git.  You left me. -JW **  
**_

 

_John!  So sorry!  I am trying to catch a murderer. -SH_

****  
_Yeah, fine.  I’ll be at the flat.  Don’t get hurt. -JW_


	12. The Final Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of NSY is at the flat and John's got a thing or two to say to them.

John went about making some tea and toast while he waited on Sherlock.  He knew that it could be hours until the man returned.  He was a bit upset at being left behind, but he knew that he was more of a liability right now than an asset.  There would be plenty more crimes to solve when he was fully healed.  Chasing after Sherlock all over London sounded very appealing, so he was prepared to focus on recovery to make that happen as soon as possible. **  
**

 

John had dozed off when the shouting started.  He startled awake as the door flew open and several officers filed in. **  
**

 

“Now wait just a minute!” he shouted, causing everyone to halt for a moment.  “You didn’t even knock!  Now what is this mess?”  He looked around until Greg stepped forward, having just gotten up the stairs. **  
**

 

“John!  I thought you went after Sherlock.” **  
**

 

“Oh, so you were planning on tossing our flat while neither of us was home?  On what grounds?” **  
**

 

“Are you saying this is your home?” Anderson couldn’t help but ask before Greg could answer. **  
**

 

“Well, I do live here if that is what you’re asking, and I do believe I deserve an explanation of just what the bloody hell is going on.” **  
**

 

“Actually, John, I did expect Sherlock to be here. He has a history of finding evidence and bringing it to the flat without informing us. Thought I’d use a drugs bust to find whatever he found this time.” **  
**

 

“Drugs?  Has he been using?” **  
**

 

Greg turned a bit pink.  “No, actually.  Not in years.  It’s just an excuse.” **  
**

 

“Right.  Well, he’s not here, so you might as well leave.” **  
**

 

“If you live here, why don’t you know these things?” Anderson asked, causing Greg to wince. **  
**

 

“Because I haven’t been here long.  Seems fairly obvious, don’t you think?”  John was starting to see that everything from Sherlock’s letters was true. **  
**

 

“Why would anyone move in with Sherlock?” **  
**

 

“Why does anyone move in with anyone?” **  
**

 

“But he’s a freak.  There’s no way anyone could put up with him.” **  
**

 

“Well, you’re wrong there, obviously, as I am here.” **  
**

 

“Just wait.  You’ll see.  Give it time?” **  
**

 

“How much time were you thinking?” **  
**

 

“Oh it doesn’t take him long to alienate people  I’d say a week at most.” **  
**

 

“Well, got you again, as we’ve been together for going on five years.”

  
“But you said you haven’t been here long.” **  
**

 

“Oh you were paying attention?  I was starting to get the impression that you were incurably dull.  I just got home.  I’ve been in Afghanistan for the last three and a half years or so.” **  
**

 

“So you don’t really know him at all.” **  
**

 

“I better.  I did marry the man.” **  
**

 

Suddenly the room stilled, and no one made a sound as they processed what John had just said.

  
“Married?  I didn’t realize you two were married,” Greg finally said.

 

“I suppose he never mentioned it.” **  
**

 

“Never mentioned you at all.” **  
**

 

“Ahh, that sounds like him.” **  
**

 

“How can you two be married?  He doesn’t wear a ring and you don’t have one either.”  Anderson butted in. **  
**

 

“Well my hand has some swelling from the getting shot," he rubbed his shoulder a bit at the memory,  "and as for Sherlock, he always wore his, you just weren’t looking.” **  
**

 

“Quite right,” came a voice from the stairs. **  
**

 

Everyone turned to see Sherlock standing in the doorway. **  
**

 

“How long have you been there?” John asked. **  
**

 

“Nearly the whole time.  I found your whole marriage reveal to be quite amusing,” Sherlock said, smiling softly. **  
**

 

Continuing to be a nuisance, Anderson whined, “I told you he didn’t wear a ring!” pointing to Sherlock’s hand. **  
**

 

“And I said you weren’t looking.”  John walked over to Sherlock, unbuttoned his shirt and revealed a thin chain on which a simple gold band hung. **  
**

 

“Now then,” Sherlock said, “if you’re done interrogating my war hero husband-and yes you are John, don’t deny it, you were shot saving someone’s life-then you can go arrest the cabbie waiting for me downstairs.  He’s your killer.  John and I have plenty of catching up to do.” And then he kissed John, softly, sweetly, but insistently. **  
**

 

Greg coughed and motioned his team out the door. **  
**

 

“Brilliant,” John breathed once they had all left.

****  
“Wait until you actually see me on a case,” Sherlock smirked, leaning in for another kiss. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone! You've all been so kind and wonderful and welcoming. I hope you enjoyed this story. I've started planning out another, so perhaps I will see you again soon.
> 
> If you have a prompt, I'd love to hear it and give it a try.


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